


Tradley Reunited

by sir_red



Category: The Vamps (UK Band)
Genre: Build up, M/M, Spanking, Tawse, tradley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3410642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sir_red/pseuds/sir_red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a belated sequel to Connor’s Conundrum.</p><p>My biggest struggle as a lover of the Vamps is their all so damn hot! All four are so ridiculously good looking I have never been able to choose. That being said I think that the Tradley relationship has to be one of my favourite fanservice scenarios. It’s something I have touched on before but I thought I might go a bit deeper (oh dear) this time.</p><p>Also apologies this has taken so long. A combination of work and apathy has kept me from writing more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tradley Reunited

 

Had Tristan Vance Evans III been born in different circumstances he might have become a supervillain. Such was his naughty genius. While the other boys genuinely enjoyed horseplay with him, they were also kind of terrified of him.

So it was with a surprise and a fair amount of genuine hurt that Tris watched the burgeoning relationship between Connor Ball and Bradley Simpson. Connor had stepped up to help Bradley deal with the disciplinary regime that their manager Joe had established. In order to deal with some of the Vamps naughtier tendencies and to force them to realise the danger of misbehaving in the public eye, Joe had decided to reintroduce old fashioned corporal punishment for the cheeky lads.

Already each of the boys had taken a turn of the tawse and felt their bum cheeks rapidly redden at Joe’s ministrations.

Bradley had been the only member of the boys to strenuously object and, to Tristan’s surprise, it had been Connor who had convinced Brad to go along with their manager’s plan.

In the weeks that had followed Brad and Connor had been fucking like bunnies. Twice Tris had walked in on the two of them. Rather than be embarrassed Tris found himself becoming…jealous.

Bradley Simpson belonged to him.

For two years they had been engaging in a level of flirting that had Tris semi-erect 23 hours a day. Tris had learned to cross his legs, hide behind his drums and engage in all manner of other erection-concealment strategies as Brad had teased and tortured him in practice, in the studio and then on tour - across four continents.

If anybody was going to fuck Brad Simpson so hard he walked bow-legged it was going to be him, Tristan Evans.

“You know,” James said to him one day as practice finished, “you could just try talking to him… like a grown up, would.”

The two had just watched Brad and Connor give each other the eye the whole way through their three hour practice session. After which the two had run off together, undressing eachother with their eyes, not even bothering to pretend to be going to different rooms.

“Talking to…what are you talking about?” Tris said, pulling his eyes away from Brad’s beautiful retreating backside.

“Talk to Brad,” James said, smiling at Tris reassuringly, “about how you feel.”

“Feel?” Tristan asked, as though unfamiliar with the word.

“You like him,” James acknowledged with burgeoning exasperation, “tell him.”

“Wait,” Tris said, finally paying attention to what James was saying, “are you suggesting that instead of engaging in homo-erotic shenanigans and passive-aggressive flirting the two of us should just honestly talk about how we feel?”

“Yes,” James said, half amused, half annoyed.

“Are you sure you’re a guy?” Tris asked James.

“I think you’ve seen the proof more than once,” James told Tris calmly.

“Suck it up Tris,” James added as he exited the stage, “tell Brad how you feel and maybe then you won’t have to jerk off twelve times a day.”

“Fuck you,” Tris yelled eloquently at James’ retreating back.

For some reason Tris found himself thinking about his experience being thrashed by Joe. Joe had used a leather tawse to turn each of their backsides bright red and to reduce Brad to tears. It had also been one of the hottest things that Tris had ever experienced, not only feeling the burn of the leather thong himself but watching both James and Connor experience the same had been enough to fill his spank bank for a life time.

Tris realized he wanted to see it again and soon. Unfortunately the other boys had been on their best behaviour ever since Joe had thrashed them the first time. As much as they’d all enjoyed it, on one level, they enjoyed not being thrashed even more.

…and Tris began to plan.

*

Connor realized he was walking funny. He smiled ruefully. Even after four weeks of fucking and being fucked by Brad he still wasn’t used to the weapon of mass destruction that Brad Simpson called a cock. Brad Simpson had the kind of cock that could strike fear into the hearts of the wicked and had left Connor feeling so terribly wrecked he’d struggled to stand, walk or sit.

…but that hadn’t stopped him coming back for more…

Despite the pain he was in, Connor had every intention of doing it all over again. Brad had sent him a message telling him to meet him in the basement of their house.

He opened the door to find Brad already waiting for him. There was the smell of Brad’s cologne and some other familiar scent.

“You said you had a surprise for me,” Connor said giving Brad a smile.

“No, I didn’t,” Brad replied, confused, “you said you had a surprise for me.”

Annoyed the two boys pulled out their phones and then showed each other the texts they had received.

"I didn’t send that text to you,” Brad told Connor, reading off Connor’s screen.

“…and I didn’t send that text to you,” Connor replied, genuinely surprised.

“Oh,” Brad said in sudden horrified understanding, “we’ve been set up.”

At that moment the door down to the basement burst open, Joe stood framed by the weak afternoon light at the top of the stairs.

It was of course in that moment that Connor realized the sickly sweet smell permeating through the room was pot. An enormous bag sat on the shelf above the washing machine. As did two half smoked joints.

“You have no idea how disappointed I am in you,” Joe said sounding sad, “you two know the drill, meet me in the living room and you’d better be nude before you get there this time.”

With that their manager stormed off to retrieve the tawse to roast their bums.

Brad looked at Connor horrified, at the same time Connor couldn’t help but notice the growing bulge in his shorts.

“I don’t know if I can take another beating man,” Brad said worriedly.

“Who did this, though?” Connor demanded, he thought about trying to tell their manager the truth but figured there was no way he’d believe them. Given how Joe felt about lying if he didn’t believe them, as he probably wouldn’t, it might make their situation worse.

"Either James or Tris I guess,” Brad said morosely, “they must have thought it would be a laugh.”

“That’s pretty awful,” Connor said, fuming, “we’re going to have to get even.”

Connor began to leave the room but Brad called out.

“He said we should be nude,” Brad said, smiling at Connor shyly.

Connor blushed and then started to get undressed in front of the bronze god that was Brad. Connor however paused when he saw Brad undressing with the unhurried ease of someone who knows how they look and likes it when people watch. Brad was semi hard, he smiled and scratched his belly as though to draw attention to his abs.

“Looking good,” Connor said, his mouth dry.

“Yep,” Brad agreed, “your turn.”

Connor blushed furiously as he, in turn, stripped off.

“I love your snail trail,” Brad said referring to the thin strip of hair that ran from Connor’s crotch to the middle of his chest.

“It’s pretty butch,” Connor agreed, only half seriously.

With that the two naked boys went to meet their fate. 


End file.
